


A bird and a zombie might get together, but who's going to tell Batman? (Not Dick. That's who)

by sprx77



Series: Annoyingly, I like you way more than I'd originally planned [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: 'One two three "Not it" for telling Bruce', Because Robins, Big Brother Dick Grayson, Denial of Feelings, Embarrassment, M/M, Pseudo-Incest, References: That one time Dick was Batman, just mentioned though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 19:18:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16001612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprx77/pseuds/sprx77
Summary: #8 for the valentines day prompts - jaytim + dic being overprotective





	A bird and a zombie might get together, but who's going to tell Batman? (Not Dick. That's who)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackholenipples](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackholenipples/gifts).



> An old drabble I'm crossposting from tumblr.

Confronting both of them at the same time probably wasn’t the best idea, but it’s not like Dick was thinking with anything  _like_  his entire brain once he’d found out his little brother—little brothers??—were having sex.

On the one hand, hot.

On the other hand,  _no_ , brain; not hot.

Jesus.

It’s not like their family needed any  _more_  drama. And to make it worse, he wasn’t sure which one he was giving the shovel talk to! Especially since he’d confronted them both.

At the same time.

Like an idiot.

It was hard to explain why it was a  _bad idea_  for one to be with the other without, you know, disparaging the other to his face.

Fuck.

“I  _know_  he’s trouble but I don’t care,” Tim said primly, lips drawing tight and eyes slit, full defensive—right as Jason barrels through with, “I fucking know he’s trouble but I don’t fucking  _care_!”

 _He—He’s trouble_ , nice and vague pronouns, had been his earnest attempt to make them freaking think about this, about all the reasons why putting your dick—heh—in your brother was a bad plan.

Not that Jason and Tim had ever been brothers and the thought  _hurts._

Not as much as the thought of Jason and Tim fucking each other. Without him. No, brain!  _At all_. Fucking each other at all.

Okay, so, past his initial shock and continued conviction that it was going to end in disaster, Dick didn’t actually  _mind_. He just felt like he should. Story of his life, right? And now here he was, trying to explain the obvious. I mean, it was obvious, right?

“Tim. Timmy. Timbo. He  _literally slit your throat_.”

“Jason—you  _literally slit his throat_. You hate Tim. Hate him.”

“We fucking made up, you giant sack of elephant shit!”

Jason looks not amused, actually, and fuck but Dick had been generally on the game plan that they shouldn’t try to alienate the Red Hood  _any more_ –- than they already had, he means, okay,  _Bruce?_ —because it was  _Jason_ and he was  _alive_  and you don’t spit in the face of goddamn miracles.

Fuck.

“ _Jesus_ , Dick.” Tim snapped, which went straight to Dick’s—well.

“I hate both of you.” Dick covers his face with his hands.

“Our family doesn’t  _need_  this kind of drama. Don’t you think there was enough drama? We’re kind of the drama-central, here. Keeping up with the Bats. The real vigilantes of Gotham.”

Tim looked unamused and unimpressed. Jason just snorted.

“Look, B’s got the new fucking kid so he doesn’t  _care_  what we get up to. Just let it go, Big Bird.”

“Not on your life, little wing,” Dick responds, pure instinct, then blanches. All the color leaves his face. Literally. He gets dizzy for a second.

Jason looks shocked, then delighted.

Tim rolls his eyes.

“Yes, go for the lowest hanging fruit, we’re ready.” He makes a complicated little flourish that manages to  _radiate_  sarcasm. Dick would be proud, but.

“Fuck you, replacement, I didn’t die and come back for this kind of treatment.”

Tim groans.

Dick wishes Jason would stop joking about his own death, though honestly if anyone had a right to...

Was it crass to say he wasn’t  _there_ , at the funeral? Because he was, but not really. Jesus. How can you berate your little brother for mocking the grief when he did, in fact,  _literally die?_

Dick had nightmares sometimes about “I’ve already clawed out of my coffin once, thanks, I’d rather be cremated next time.”

Privately, Dick thinks that  _next time_  he’s going to dunk his little brother in the fucking Pit himself, fuck Bruce and fuck  _everyone else_ , like hell he’s going to let Talia do it first and  _keep him_  from them for another three years.

“Look, can we just—Can you wait until I’m out of the—No, you know what? Can we wait until I’m  _off-planet_  before telling Bruce you’re shacking up?” Dick asks plaintively.

Tim and Jason’s heads both swivel around to look at him, oddly incredulous.

Dick feels an itching stitch of dismay crawling up his spine.

“You think he doesn’t already know?” Jason snorts, right as Tim earnestly deadpans in disbelief: “He’s  _Batman._ ”

“ _I_  was Batman,” Dick reminds, and ignores Jason’s “Ugh, don’t fucking remind me.”

“You don’t automatically know  _everything_  about  _everyone_  just from putting on the suit.”

Tim’s eyebrows have flown up. Both at once, because he never really figured out how to raise one without the other drawing taut awkwardly.

“He’s  _Bruce_.” Jason and Tim both say, Jay spitting it out like a curse and Tim like a plea to higher logic that’s getting ignored.

Dick had come to Gotham for—something. Other than this shit. He’s pretty sure. Now he doesn’t want to go back to the Manor at  _all_. He wonders if he can get away with heading back to New York without Bruce ever knowing, then has his own  _It’s **Batman**_  moment, complete with his eleven-year old self’s horrified disbelief and his sixteen year old self’s erstwhile certainty in the man, the myth and the asshole of a legend.

Dick sighed.

“I hate both of you.”

Tim, unexpectedly, laughs.

Jason pecks his  _boyfriend_  on the temple and comes over to throw a hand onto Dick’s shoulder.

“Cheer up, Dickiebird. This is what you get for being the  _good son_. Now run on home and deal with the fallout.”

“I really,  _really_  hate you right now, Jay.”

Jason snickers, because he’s first and foremost a  _brat_  and his miraculous resurrection didn’t change that.

Tim smiles, angelic. It looks slightly murderous.

“Actually, I think  _I’m_  the good son.” He pauses. “Brother-fucking aside.”

Jason  _howls_  with delighted laughter and Dick moans in genuine horror.

Dealing with Bruce is going to be  _awful_.


End file.
